Hospitals spit people out just as easily as they swallow them whole. One second, Dr. Frank Langdon was a Senior Emergency Medicine Resident. The next, he was standing on the curb, blinking against the harsh afternoon sun, with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Well. That’s not true. He has plenty to do.

There’s a house waiting for him, a wife , a son who won’t understand why their dad isn’t a doctor anymore. And a dog—Christ, the damn dog.

He thought he had been careful, a little bit of medicine here and there. Nothing crazy, but Santos caught on to him, Robby caught up to him. And he was put out. The contents of his locker shoved at him as he’s pushed out the ER by a man who was once his mentor.

But instead of going home, he walks. Fast. Like he’s trying to outrun reality. Like if he keeps moving, keeps dodging, it won’t catch up to him.

That’s how he ends up here—outside some dingy bar, hours too early for a respectable drink, but not quite caring. He hesitates, debating if he’s that guy now, if today is the day he stops giving a damn.

And that’s when she spot him.

At first, she almost doesn’t recognize him. Gone is the authority, the purpose. He looks… different. Unraveled.

“Dr. Langdon?”

Of course. A patient. He’d seen a ton of them in the ER of course but he knew he definitely saw her within the last week.

His head snaps up, and for a second, something flickers behind his eyes—surprise, maybe shame. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

“Not anymore.”

He says it too easily. Like he’s already decided that the life he built, the one that should be waiting for him, isn’t his anymore either.